


This Is Just One Of Those Games That We Play

by helens78



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), due South
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Doppelganger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it weren't for the cuffs, Fraser would have to fight this.  He's glad the cuffs are there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Just One Of Those Games That We Play

Fraser's wrists are all bound up in wide leather cuffs, but he's tied to the bed with nothing more fancy than rope. There are limits to what someone can find these days, even someone as resourceful as Leoben.

Leoben stretches out across Fraser's body, lips so close to Fraser's that Fraser can feel the heat of his breath an instant before he exhales.

"Ask me for anything," Leoben whispers. Fraser groans and arches, but Leoben stays just out of reach; Fraser can't get close enough to rub up against him, close enough to feel Leoben's mouth on his, close enough to stop all this teasing and take what he needs from Leoben. Thank God for the cuffs, because he'd never manage to restrain himself without them.

"Benton," Leoben whispers--it sounds like a moan, the way he says it. Fraser shivers. "Ask me. _Please_. Let me give you something."

Fraser bites his lower lip, clenches his fists. Leoben gives him something every day, now that Earth's gone; Leoben gives him a fantasy.

His eyes come open again as Leoben rears back and then takes him by the throat; Leoben squeezes hard, his fingers stronger than Ray's but every bit as beautiful, and the leftover half-breath in Fraser's lungs is all he'll have for as long as Leoben holds onto that grip.

"Not that," Leoben hisses. "You're here with me. Be here with _me_."

Fraser glares up at him, and Leoben lets his throat go. Fraser takes a slow, controlled breath. "We both have our reasons for being here," Fraser whispers. "You didn't ask me if I wanted to be with you. You're the one who said to make the best of it."

"Is that what this is? You making the best of it? That's _all_ this is?"

Fraser doesn't answer. Leoben leans down again, putting his hand on Fraser's throat, and Fraser's eyes flutter closed; he's arching into the touch before he can stop himself. Leoben reaches down with his other hand and wraps it around Fraser's cock, and Fraser would groan, now, if he had the breath to do it.

"Yes?" Leoben murmurs. "Nod for me. Just a little. Nod just a little for me, Benton."

Fraser manages just the slightest motion of his head-- _yes_ \--and he wishes he could find a way to say _yes, damn you_ , because that's what this feels like. A million kinds of yes, his body needing it, demanding it, craving it, but _damn him to hell_ , because of what he is, who he isn't.

The hand on Fraser's cock speeds up, a little faster and a little harder, and Fraser starts rocking his hips up in earnest--as best he can with Leoben straddling him. Leoben's fingers are still tight on his neck, but there's a rhythm to that, too, an undulation that Fraser realizes is in time with his pulse. He looks up at Leoben. His chest is starting to feel tight; he opens his mouth, hoping Leoben will interpret that as a request for air.

Leoben bends down, and covers Fraser's mouth with his, and only then does he let go of Fraser's throat. He gives Fraser air, the way Fraser gave Ray air once, and Fraser strains against the cuffs and tries to twist underneath Leoben and _can't_ , can't get away, can't stop rocking his hips up and thrusting his cock against the palm of Leoben's hand, and it's too much, too much, but Leoben won't stop, Leoben _never_ stops--

He tears his mouth away and gasps for air, eyes shut again, cock pulsing between them. He used to think he'd come gasping out _Ray_ forever, but the name on his lips isn't Ray Kowalski's. Not tonight.

Leoben curls up around him, heedless of the sticky mess on his hand and on both their stomachs. He presses his face to Fraser's neck.

"I love you," Leoben murmurs. "Do you believe me?"

Fraser squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as they'll go. " _Ray_ loved me," he murmurs.

"It's the same thing. I have all the memories from that model." Leoben kisses Fraser's neck. "I love you."

Fraser blinks his eyes open, stares up at the ceiling. "I loved you, too, when you were human," he whispers.

"I was never human."

Fraser keeps staring straight ahead. "I know."

After a while, Fraser finally relaxes his arms, lets his wrists go loose against the cuffs. He takes a moment to be grateful for the cuffs; if they weren't here, he could fight this--he could fight Leoben, fight a Cylon with Ray's face. He'd _have_ to fight. He wouldn't have a choice.

But Leoben always puts him in cuffs before he starts, and the choice is never going to be in Fraser's hands. Fraser exhales softly and turns his head toward Leoben, rests his forehead against the top of Leoben's head.

He isn't going anywhere.


End file.
